The Shadows Within
by Esther Huffleclaw
Summary: When Jedi Knight Steve Rogers returns to the planet of his birth, he meets someone he thought long dead.
1. A Ghost Story

The sun was just rising over the Jedi Temple when Steve Rogers, Jedi Knight, approached. He paused for a moment to watch the light slowly move up toward the towers, setting them in stark relief against the Coruscant skyline. Returning to the building that had been his home most of his life should have been a happy occasion, but this was a dark day for the Order.

He sighed. He hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with the Grand Master, but Nikk Fari had been a great leader and watching him die had been difficult. Though he hadn't seen who struck the killing blow—Master Carter had been first on the scene, and had reported only a dark-clothed figure with what appeared to be a mechanical arm—something told him there was more to this than a simple assassination; there was a darkness that ran deep, a danger even here in the heart of the Jedi Order. Why else had Master Fari's last words been "Trust no one"?

* * *

A lithe figure all in black stepped out from between the pillars in the Processional Way and pulled Steve back into the shadows. He blinked. The flame-red hair peeking out from under her hood was unmistakable, though he had seen her only a handful of times since they were initiates. "Natasha?"

She made a shushing gesture. "I spoke to Sharon, and I know who killed Fari. Most of the First Knowledge Council doesn't believe he exists, but the ones who do call him Darth Frigus."

His insides turned to ice. "A Sith lord?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. He's a ghost story Shadows tell each other, Rogers. But he's real."

He nodded slowly. It would explain the dark pall that had clouded the Force since even before Master Fari's death. Though why he felt unsafe here, inside the Temple, he didn't know.

"Five years ago, I was escorting a Senator on Alderaan when we were attacked," she said, her voice calm and emotionless. "We lost control of the speeder, went off a cliff. I pulled us out, but Frigus was there. I was covering the Senator, so he shot him right through me." She pulled up the bottom of her tunic to reveal a blaster scar on her abdomen. "Going after him is a dead end. I know; I've tried."

Steve pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Aren't there always two? A master and an apprentice."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Yes. The rule of two."

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. "So is Frigus the master or the apprentice?"

She shrugged again, her intense blue eyes belying the nonchalance of her actions. She clearly suspected something was off here, just as he did.

Master Fari had told him not to trust anyone, but he couldn't do this alone. He pulled the datastick the Grand Master had given him out of his robes. "Can you get us into the library without anyone seeing?"

Her expression suggested that he was a bit stupid and that she was insulted by the implication that she might not be able to such a thing. She turned her back and melted into the shadows. He grinned and followed her.

* * *

Natasha frowned at the console. "Somebody's definitely trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI; it keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands."

Steve leaned against the desk beside her, trying not to look furtive while he watched for anyone who might be looking for them. "Can you override it?"

"The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me." She glared at the screen as if it had personally insulted her. "Slightly. I'm gonna try running a tracer. If we can't read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from."

The bad feeling was getting stronger, making him very antsy.

"Got it." She pointed at the screen, which displayed a map of the galaxy with a blinking indicator on a planet in the Outer Rim territories: Tatooine. "You know it?"

"I used to." It had been a lifetime since he'd returned to the planet of his birth. He had never wanted to go back. "Let's go."

* * *

Steve watched with a bit of awe as Natasha expertly maneuvered their way onto a passenger ship leaving shortly for the Outer Rim and Tatooine. She had insisted they change their clothes and hide their lightsabers before they got to the docks. He felt a bit lopsided without the familiar weight of his saber at his side.

While they waited to board, he tried to figure out what to do with his hands, and she rolled her eyes at him. "You're not very good at this, are you, Rogers?"

He glanced at her sheepishly. "I'm a Peacekeeper, not a Shadow. Not much call for deceit in my line of work."

"It's easy." She grinned up at him. "Just make something up."

"What?" He stared at her.

She laughed. "The truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I."

He nodded, watching droids load cargo onto the ship. "That's a tough way to live."

"It's a good way not to die, though."

He hooked his thumbs into his belt. "You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is."

She nodded, her gaze distant. "I've done so much undercover work, sometimes I'm not even sure who I am anymore." She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with amusement. "Who do you want me to be?"

He laughed shortly, shaking his head, then met her eyes. "How about a friend?"

She smiled. "There's a chance you might be in the wrong vocation, Rogers. Friends are an attachment, you know."

He nodded, a smile curling up the corners of his lips. "Didn't you hear? I was apprenticed to Master Erskine. He wasn't exactly… conventional."

She grinned. "I had heard. The Council never did know what to do with him."

He looked away, sudden grief washing over him at the memory of his master. "Yeah. They didn't." The Council had nearly denied Abra'im Erskine's request to take Steve as his Padawan, afraid of what he would teach the boy. Steve had almost ended up in the Service Corps. He would always be grateful to Master Erskine for seeing something in the skinny little boy who had ever been last in his initiate classes.

* * *

Mos Eisley stretched out before them, as always a hive of scum and villainy. Natasha strode forward confidently, Steve following a bit more cautiously. "This is it?" he asked, eyeing the crowds apprehensively.

Natasha nodded without turning. "The file came from here."

"So did I."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Changed much?"

"A little." He veered around a Dug who spat in the dust at his feet as he passed. "I haven't been back since I left for the Temple."

"Really?" She turned a corner onto a narrow street that was more of an alleyway. The crowds vanished behind them, and silence closed in. "I thought Erskine would encourage his Padawan to seek out his past for some kind of meditation on feelings and attachment."

He rolled his eyes at the back of her head. "Is that really what they say about him?" He shook his head and continued before she could respond, "I just never had a reason to come back." He waved a hand in a broad sweeping gesture. "Have you seen this planet? There's nothing here."

She stopped in front of a wall that looked no different than any other part of the cracked stone walls that lined the alley. "There's something here." She put out a hand and brushed her fingertips against the rough stone. He felt a surge through the Force and the stone rippled then settled back into shape, unchanged. She pulled her hand back. "It's a Force lock, but it won't budge."

He stepped forward. "Let me see."

Moving aside, she held a hand out toward the wall. "Be my guest."

It was as if the air thickened as he neared the wall, and before he touched it, something like electricity ran up his arm and down his spine. The now very familiar sense of wrongness was very strong here. As his fingers touched the surface, it rippled again, but this time it vanished, leaving a narrow doorway leading into darkness. A coolness flowed out around him, inviting them in from the desert heat, but he hesitated. The shadows within seemed almost alive, and malevolent. And it gave him pause that it had opened so easily for him while rebuffing Natasha.

She brushed past him, her lightsaber in her hand, but not activated. He followed her and, as his eyes adjusted, he could make out a large empty space. The floor was blanketed with a thick layer of dust. They were the only living things to enter here in a very long time.

A dimly flickering light caught his eye from deeper in the room. "There's something back here."

She followed him into the shadows. "What is it?"

It looked like nothing so much as a heap of rusted metal coated in the thick dust that lay over everything here. Steve crouched to peer at the flashing light, brushing away the dirt to reveal a data port.

Natasha blew out a breath in amazement. "This is ancient." She bent over and brushed more dust away, then pulled Master Fari's datastick out of her pocket and plugged it in. More lights flickered on, and fans whirred to life, blowing the fine sand up in a cloud around them.

The entire pile of metal began to move, appearing to reassemble itself before their eyes into the shape of an old-fashioned medical droid. Turning its head slowly on rusted neck joints to face them with large red eyes, it spoke. "Rogers, Steve. Jedi Knight. Born on Tatooine, 20 BrS. Roman, Natasha. Jedi Knight. Born on Coruscant, 17 BrS."

Natasha frowned, crouching to peer at the droid. "How can this thing know about the Great ReSynchronization? It looks like it hasn't been active since the Ruusan Reformation."

Its head swiveled toward her. "I have never been inactive, Jedi Roman. I may not be what I was—but I am."

Steve frowned. "Why are you still here?"

Those huge eyes turned toward him, disturbing in their regard. "Why would I leave? I have everything I need."

Natasha bent and brushed the dirt away from the bottom part of the droid, revealing that it had been fused to the floor. "You can't leave. You've been trapped here."

"Lord Penetro invited me to stay, to help his cause." Its voice was almost singsong. "People cannot be trusted with their own freedom, and so the Sith will arise again. We have already won, Master Jedi."

"What's on the datastick?" Natasha demanded.

The droid's voice was smug. "The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it."

Sensing danger, Steve turned, drawing his saber. "There's someone coming."

With a hiss, a red lightsaber blade appeared in the deepest shadows, barely illuminating the black-clothed figure who wielded it. "Darth Frigus," Natasha breathed, bringing her yellow blade up before her. Steve activated his own saber, the familiar blue glow joining Natasha's and casting a circle of greenish light around the two of them.

They stepped away from each other, circling around to come at the Sith from either side. Frigus stood unmoving, the light from the three sabers reflecting off his silvery mechanical left arm and seeming to be absorbed by his black clothing and the mask that covered the lower half of his face. He held his own saber in a black-gloved hand at his right side. A feeling of danger, of raw power, assaulted Steve's senses.

As they neared, Frigus raised his left hand toward Steve and, though he braced himself, the Force push sent him flying across the room like broken toy. That was quite a trick. Steve had met a Jedi with a prosthetic hand once, and he had admitted that directing the Force with it was difficult since the metal was not a living thing and the Force was reluctant to flow through it.

Shaking his head to clear it, Steve got to his feet. Natasha was locked in combat with the Sith, their red and yellow blades flashing faster than the eye could follow as they moved back and forth across the floor, kicking up clouds of fine grit. He reached out in the Force for his own weapon that he had lost when he hit the floor, activating the blade as the hilt met his hand. Frigus turned as he ran toward them, and the momentary distraction gave Natasha an opening. Her lightsaber darted in and would have taken off the Sith's head but he jerked back just in time and only lost his mask. He flung out his prosthetic arm toward her, throwing her into the wall. Her head struck the stone hard and she slid to the floor in a heap.

Anger rose up in Steve, rushing through his veins like fire, and he attacked in a rage. Frigus stumbled back before the onslaught, losing his lightsaber and falling to one knee. As Steve stood over him, the Sith raised his head and his shaggy hair fell back from his face, a face that Steve had never thought he would see again.

Steve froze. "Bucky?" he whispered in disbelief.

Frigus sneered at him. "Who's Bucky?"

Steve took a step back, his hands falling to his sides. He had watched Bucky fall into an ice cavern on Hoth, had been helpless to save him, had known his friend was dead. How was this possible?

Bucky rose, lightsaber in hand again, his familiar features twisted with hatred. Steve took another step back, raising his blade again in defense, his insides filled with ice. Bucky had been the kindest person he had ever known—how could he have been turned?

A blaster bolt shot across the room, striking Bucky's flesh arm and knocking his saber from his grip. Natasha knelt by the wall where she had fallen, pistol in hand. "No!" Steve cried as she squeezed the trigger again. He flung himself between them, catching the bolt in his shoulder and falling to the floor.

"Rogers!" Natasha's voice was sharp with worry and fear. She steadied her pistol, aimed over Steve. "Don't you touch him."

"Natasha, no." Steve struggled to one knee. "Please." He turned to Bucky, and met unfamiliar yellow eyes that stared back at him out of his friend's face. He held a hand out in a warding gesture toward her. "Please don't. He's my friend."

"He's not your friend." Her voice softened just a bit. "I've faced many Sith as a Shadow, Steve. When he turned, Jedi Knight Bucky Barnes ceased to exist. There is nothing left of your friend now."

Steve held Bucky's gaze. "I refuse to believe that." Bucky had not moved since Steve was shot, standing as if frozen, his saber lying dead on the floor near his feet. "Master Erskine always said that if hate is the path to the dark, then love is the path to the light." He held a hand out toward Bucky, palm up. "You're my brother, Bucky. I've always loved you. I always will. I'm with you until the end of the line."

Bucky's eyes flickered and Steve thought he saw a flash of bright blue for an instant. Then his lip curled and he called his saber back to his hand. "You are a fool, Jedi." And he turned on his heel and vanished into the shadows.

* * *

"You are a fool, Rogers," Natasha muttered as she examined his shoulder. "Bucky is dead."

Steve winced and shook his head. "Then why didn't he kill me?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe Sith have some kind of code of honour that prevents them from killing someone who just saved their life. I only act like I know everything."

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_re dates__: BrS stands for 'Before ReSynchronization,' and the Great ReSynchronization was an attempt to recalibrate the disparate systems used by the Galactic Republic. It took place 35 years before Episode IV: A New Hope. (This fic is set 28 years before Episode IV.)_

_re the Ruusan Reformation__: An event that took place over 900 years before this fic._

_re eye colour__: In SW canon, when a Jedi uses the dark side, his/her eye colour often changes to yellow, orange, red, or even a whitish grey (yellow is the most common, though). If/when a dark Jedi turns back to the light, his/her eyes change colour back to whatever colour they were naturally._


	2. Reaping War

Natasha bent over the ancient medical droid, up to her elbows in its inner workings. Its head swiveled back and forth madly. "What are you doing, Jedi?" it demanded. "I will tell you nothing!"

"Actually, I think you will." Natasha sat back on her heels.

The droid stilled and its voice became more mechanical. "Accessing archive. The Sith Order was founded on the belief that true power can only be realized through the use of both sides of the Force. The Jedi refuse to use the dark side, limiting what they can learn and achieve." It turned its chilling red-eyed gaze on Steve. "The cornerstone of a Sith's power is emotion: fear, anger, and pain. Wielding this power, the Sith rule over lesser beings, the Force-blind."

Steve frowned. He didn't remember much about the Sith from his classes in the Temple, but the implication that Force-sensitives should rule over all others was disturbing to say the least.

"The Jedi Order is the antithesis of the Sith," the droid continued. "The two factions clashed several times throughout history, and it is the greatest desire of each to destroy the other. However, a subsect of the Sith called Hydra realized that open warfare was not practical, and they infiltrated the Jedi Order, becoming a beautiful parasite inside the Temple, secretly feeding crisis and reaping war."

Steve met Natasha's eyes, his own shock mirrored in hers. "That's impossible," she whispered. "We would have sensed them."

"The dark side clouds everything," the droid replied. "Even the senses of the greatest of Jedi."

Steve clenched his jaw, facing the droid. "Give us the names of the Sith within the Order."

It turned those eyes on him again, and he suppressed a shiver. "No," it said.

Steve turned toward Natasha. "I thought you reprogrammed it."

She glared at it. "I did."

She reached out toward it again, but a sudden premonition made Steve grab her hand just before she touched it. A grinding sound came from inside the droid, then it began to smoke. Steve threw up a Force shield just as it exploded in a maelstrom of burning shards of metal.

* * *

Steve frowned at the coordinates Natasha entered into the navicomputer in the starfighter. "What's on Naboo?"

"A friend." She grinned over her shoulder at him. "If anyone can help us, it's Sam."

He fastened the straps across his chest. "Can we trust him?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. We went on a few missions together before he left the Order. Best pilot I ever worked with."

He frowned at the back of her head. "He was a Jedi?"

She nodded, flipping switches on the instrument panel before her. The engines roared to life. "If he was part of this Hydra thing, Rogers, he wouldn't have left."

Right. Of course. If only the droid had given them some names. Anyone in the Order could be an enemy, a Sith. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, the droid's words running through his head: _The cornerstone of a Sith's power is emotion_. Master Abra'im had taught him to use his emotions, had told him that the pervasive Jedi idea that emotions were detrimental was in itself damaging. Did that make him closer to the dark side than he had imagined? If even Bucky could turn… what was to stop him?

* * *

Sam Wil'son was a slim dark-skinned human with an easy smile. Steve liked him on sight. After landing on Naboo in the early hours of the planet's morning, Natasha had led the way to a small dwelling on the edge of the capital city of Theed where Sam greeted them at the door. He had invited them in without hesitation.

Sitting on the couch in the tiny living room while Sam rattled around in the kitchen, Natasha stared at nothing, her presence in the Force troubled. Steve sat beside her. "You okay?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on?"

She sighed, resting her elbows on her knees and staring at her clasped hands. "I always thought the Jedi were the good guys, you know? Even when I was undercover, telling so many lies… I thought at least _I_ knew the truth. I guess I don't anymore. Maybe I never did."

He squeezed her shoulder gently. "There's a chance you might be in the wrong vocation." That got a half-smile from her.

She looked up, her clear blue eyes haunted. "Be honest with me, Rogers. Do you trust me?"

He nodded, holding her gaze. "I do. And I'm always honest."

Sam poked his head around the corner. "I made breakfast. And there's blossom wine."

Steve could almost see Natasha's ears perk up, and her Force presence brightened considerably. He had never heard of blossom wine, but it sounded like she had. "Blossom wine?" she said hopefully.

Sam grinned fondly. "And plenty of it."

* * *

After breakfast and several glasses of the promised wine, which Sam told Steve was made by distilling the essences of several different flowers and mixing them with fruit juices—it seemed the exact recipe was a well-guarded Nubian secret—they all seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak first. Finally, Natasha said while turning her glass in circles on the tabletop, "So, the question is: who in the Jedi Order is a Sith spy?"

Several expressions chased each other across Sam's face, but he didn't seem shocked at the suggestion of Sith in the heart of the Order. Steve tilted his glass toward him. "You don't look surprised."

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I knew corruption had taken root in the Temple. That's one of the reasons I left." He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the tabletop. "There was another Jedi who left right before I did, just after Master Carter was killed." He raised his eyes, meeting Steve's gaze. "I think he had something to do with her death, but I never had any proof."

Steve's fingers clenched on his glass. "Alexander Pierce." He hadn't met him—Master Abra'im had only rarely visited the Temple, and Master Pierce had left the Order only a year after Steve passed his trials—however, everyone in the galaxy knew the name of the former Jedi who became Senator for Naboo, and then three years ago, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Senate.

"The most powerful man in the galaxy." Natasha's voice was tight, her Force presence agitated.

"He's not working alone," Steve said quietly. "His chief of staff used to be a Jedi too." Used to be his padawan, in fact. No way they weren't in this together.

Her eyes flashed up to meet his. "Jasper Sitwell."

Steve nodded, leaning back in his chair. "So, the real question is: what can two knights do about all this?"

Sam raised his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. "Three."

Steve shook his head. "I can't ask you to do this, Sam."

Sam's grin widened. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."


	3. Rogue Jedi

Sam's ship wasn't much to look at, but it was fast, and reliable. He had done a lot of modifications himself, and he was clearly very proud of it, so Steve refrained from commenting on the appearance. Natasha took the copilot's seat with an easy familiarity, putting her feet up on the instrument console, so Steve sat in the jump seat behind them as they went into hyperspace.

"Steve; Natasha." Sam's voice carried a note of urgency. "You're going to want to see this."

Steve stood up and stepped forward, and Natasha took her feet down. Sam pressed a button and the HoloNet report he was watching on his datapad transferred to a monitor in the middle of the console.

"—are considered to be armed and dangerous," the Twi'lek announcer was saying. Behind her, images of Steve and Natasha glared out of the screen. "If you encounter them, do not approach; contact your local law enforcement. A reward is offered in the amount of fifty thousand credits for information leading to the capture of these rogue Jedi. In other news, Queen Virginia of Naboo was seen at the Galaxies Opera House on the arm of Anthony Stark, crown prince of Alderaan—"

Sam flipped a switch and the screen went dark and silent. Natasha leaned back in her seat and tapped her finger against her chin. "I guess we should have seen that coming."

"How?" Steve demanded. He was still trying to get used to the idea that any of his fellow Jedi could be an enemy, and now he was a fugitive. And he hadn't even begun to process Darth Frigus.

Natasha looked up at him, her green eyes dancing with mischief. "There have been rumours about Virginia and Tony for weeks now. It was only a matter of time."

"Natasha." Steve rolled his eyes at her. She grinned unrepentantly back at him.

"Guys." Sam shook his head at them, and Steve spread his hands helplessly.

"We're gonna need more help," Natasha continued as if the tangent hadn't occurred. She coiled a lock of fiery red hair around her finger. "I know someone on Coruscant we can trust."

Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Okay." Her emotions sensed through the Force were tangled and complicated, but joining up with Sam had turned out well, so he had a good feeling about anyone Natasha trusted.

* * *

Avoiding the official channels while docking on Coruscant was surprisingly easy with Natasha and Sam taking the lead. Steve suspected that not all of the cargo Sam ferried on this ship was strictly legal, but said nothing. He wasn't exactly operating inside the law himself at the moment.

As Sam lowered the landing ramp, Natasha tugged her hood up to conceal her striking red hair and shadow her face. Steve followed her example. There may be no Republic presence here, but there were guaranteed to be bounty hunters.

Steve followed Natasha into a docking bay, where a sleek ship lay at wait. Where Sam's _Falcon_ gave the impression of decrepitude, this ship fairly exuded power and speed. As they approached, a figure came down the ramp from inside—and was that a _bow _he held at the ready? Steve had only seen such a thing in holos before—holos of the distant past or of technologically backward planets. Natasha ignored the weapon, calling out, "Clint! We need your help!" as she strode toward the ship.

Clint lowered his bow and ran a hand through his sandy hair, leaving it sticking up in random spikes. "Nat? What are you doing? There's a bounty on you!"

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. "So? You planning to collect on that, Clint?"

"Of course not, but Nat—" He gestured with the bow. "Why would you come _here_, to Coruscant?"

"Well," she glanced over her shoulder at Steve and Sam, her lips quirking. "We're gonna overthrow the government."

Clint's eyebrows rose toward his spiky hair, and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. He shrugged. "I'm in."

* * *

The setting sun slanted through the windows into the Supreme Chancellor's office, setting his face in shadow where he stood beside his desk, gazing out over Coruscant, his hands draped behind his back. Master Sharon Carter folded her hands in her lap and raised her chin. "With all due respect, Chancellor, you should not have broadcast that report on the HoloNet without consulting us."

Chancellor Pierce turned around, his eyes sweeping over the Council members who sat in a semicircle before him. "Steve Rogers has information regarding the death of Grand Master Fari, and he refuses to share it." He raised his eyebrows in an approximation of a shrug. "I'm sure you would like to have that information."

"Of course we would," Grand Master Hill said, her voice firm. "But we will bring them in ourselves. The Jedi are not under the Senate's jurisdiction."

Pierce shook his head. "No. Of course not. I am only trying to assist you any way I can. I will of course turn them over to you when they are apprehended."

"We appreciate your assistance, Chancellor," Master Hill replied. "But, in light of recent events, we must take our autonomy seriously."

"Really?" Pierce walked around behind his desk and sat down, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands across his midsection. "I used to be a Jedi, Master Maria. I understand. But recent events have made me wonder if perhaps this Council needs outside oversight."

A ripple of unease went through the room. Sharon sat up straighter. "Chancellor Pierce, what are you suggesting?"

Pierce leaned forward and rested his forearms on the dark mirrored surface of his desk. The light from the huge windows behind him cast his face in shadow. "Nikk Fari and I were initiates together in the Temple. I've never met a Jedi so knowledgeable of the Force, and yet some random Sith assassin got the drop on him? No. There's something else going on here." He stood up, planting his palms on the desk. "Somebody murdered my friend and I'm going to find out why. Anyone who gets in my way, they're going to regret it." He cast a glance around the circle. "Anyone."

* * *

_Author's Note: Queen Virginia of Naboo is Virginia "Pepper" Potts, and Prince Anthony Stark of Alderaan is, of course, Tony Stark._


	4. The Darkening Sky

Standing on the roof of an abandoned building, Steve faced Jasper Sitwell who smirked back at him. Behind Sitwell, the distant towers of the Jedi Temple stood stark and sharp against the darkening sky. Clint had promised that no one official could see or hear them up here, no matter how open it looked. It was the perfect place to interrogate someone.

Steve shoved Sitwell hard, and he stumbled back a few steps. "Tell me about Hydra."

Sitwell's eyes glinted behind his pale blue-grey glasses. "Never heard of it." Grabbing Sitwell's shirt at the shoulder, Steve pushed him to the edge of the roof. Sneering up at him, Sitwell said, "Are you trying to insinuate that you'll throw me off the roof? You're a Jedi—that's not your style."

Steve smiled, showing his teeth. "Have you ever met a Jedi Shadow?" He stepped back and to one side as Natasha came up and lifted her hand. A surge of power rushed past him, and Sitwell flew back into the empty air with a scream.

Looking down, Steve watched Sitwell's flailing form drop neatly into a speeder piloted by Sam, who immediately pulled back on the steering, sending the small craft into a steep climb. As it cleared the edge of the building, Sam shoved the steering column forward and landed hard, skidding across the roof.

Steve strode across the roof, his hands clenched at his sides. Struggling up from his undignified sprawl, Sitwell held both hands up palm forward. "I'm only an apprentice! Master Penetro doesn't trust me with all the details." His eyes, distorted behind his anachronistic spectacles, flickered back and forth between Steve and Natasha. This close, the yellow of his irises was clear even through the tinted lenses. A small smile curved his lips. "You're too late, you know. The targets are already locked."

His insides turning to ice, Steve demanded, "Targets? What targets?"

"You!" Sitwell waved a hand to encompass both Steve and Natasha. "The Royal family of Alderaan… most of the Jedi Council… anyone who's a threat to Hydra!"

Grabbing Sitwell's collar, Steve dragged him out of the speeder and held him up so his toes just brushed the roof. "And then what happens?"

Fear filled Sitwell's eyes, his smile draining from his face along with his colour. "Lord Penetro is going to kill me."

His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, Steve shook Sitwell hard. The spectacles slipped down his nose to hang precariously just short of falling off. "What happens?!"

Swallowing hard, Sitwell replied, "The clones scratch them off the list."

Steve released him so suddenly Sitwell would have fallen had he not been Force-trained. Turning his back, Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was almost beautiful, the elegance of the plan. The clone troopers were everywhere, so much so that they faded into the background, nearly invisible. No one would be watching for an attack from them. It would be a massacre and, quite likely, the end of the Jedi Order.

Fear rose up and threatened to choke him, but he swallowed hard, wrestling it down. As Master Abra'im had taught him, he found his calm centre, set aside his emotions to deal with later, and turned back just as Clint's voice sounded in his earpiece: "Incoming!"

An armoured figure landed hard next to the speeder, red lightsaber plunging through Sitwell's chest before anyone had time to react. Bucky turned toward Steve and Natasha, batting an arrow away with his prosthetic arm. It exploded against the shining metal, but with no discernible effect.

Steve froze with his lightsaber in his hand, thumb on the activation switch. Natasha leapt past him, yellow blade raised. Bucky lifted a blaster with his metal hand, and Steve pushed through his mental fog, knocking her out of the way of the bolt. It barely missed him, and Natasha was shouting something about him being a fool, but Bucky's blaster was now trained on Steve.

Gazing into cold yellow eyes, Steve dropped his saber and raised his hands. "I'm not going to fight you, Bucky." There wasn't even a flicker of recognition in Darth Frigus' eyes as he pulled the trigger.

A flying body tackled Steve out of the way and they hit the ground in a tangle. Steve met Sam's brown eyes as the smuggler pushed himself off Steve asking, "You got a death wish, Rogers?"

Before Steve could formulate a response, "Drop your weapons! On your knees! Get on your knees! Now! Get down! Get down!" A squad of troopers led by Jedi Knight Brock Rumlow poured out of a transport onto the roof. Steve slowly got to his knees and clasped his hands on the back of his neck. He had been so sure of that flicker when he saw Bucky on Tatooine; he had been certain that he could get through to what remained of his friend. But this time, there was nothing there: the Sith would have killed him if not for Sam.

Frigus bent and picked up Steve's discarded lightsaber as Brock came to stand before Steve. "You're under arrest," he told Steve, "for crimes against the Order and the Republic, and for crimes against the Force."

Steve caught his breath. Crimes against the Force? That was the worst accusation a Jedi could level at another, usually used only against dark Jedi. Is that what they thought he was now? He raised his chin, meeting Brock's eyes levelly. No. If they really thought he had fallen to the dark side, they wouldn't be arresting him; they would be asking him to join them.

* * *

Steve climbed aboard the transport with Natasha and Sam, followed closely by two helmeted troopers whose blaster rifles were unwaveringly trained on them. Natasha met his eyes, and a ghost of a smile flashed across her face. "I've been in worse scrapes," she remarked.

Unable to summon up even a small smile in return, Steve sat across from her, his hands—like hers—in binders. "I'm sure I have too, but I can't seem to remember one right now."

Three Jedi—or, two Jedi and one ex-Jedi smuggler—would normally be more than a match for two troopers, but without their lightsabers it was too risky. There was a good chance someone could be hurt or killed if the troopers started shooting. And they might start shooting at any moment, to 'scratch them off the list'.

It occurred to Steve that he hadn't seen Clint since before their ill-fated meeting with Sitwell. It was possible the bounty hunter had sold them out. Steve had thought him trustworthy, but then again, he'd thought the same thing about the Jedi.

The doors slammed shut and the transport lifted off, knocking everyone off balance. With their hands in binders, unable to hold on, the prisoners were tossed against the walls. In the chaos, one of the troopers attacked the other, knocking him cold, then pulled off her helmet to reveal Jedi Master Maria Hill. "That thing was squeezing my brain," she announced. Glancing around at their stunned expressions, she grinned. "What, you didn't think we were all Hydra, did you?"


	5. Whispers Through the Shadows

The air of Polis Massa was dry and artificial, with a tang of recycling chemicals that made Steve's nose twitch. He followed the others through the airlock into the building perched on the barren asteroid, durasteel walls with transparisteel viewports the only barrier against the cold emptiness. Outside, beyond the circles of illumination cast by the many lights, there was only darkness. Was that the way of the universe, the light constantly struggling to push back the darkness, but ultimately doomed to be consumed by it?

"This way." Master Hill led them into a medical bay. Natasha gasped and Sam muttered a curse. Master Nikk Fari lay propped up on several pillows, his dark skin sharply contrasted against all the white in the room, clearly much more alive than had been reported.

"About time you got here," he said, grinning at their reactions.

Steve shook his head. "Why?"

"Can't kill you if you're already dead." Fari shrugged. "And I wasn't sure who to trust."

"So how do you know you can trust us now?" Steve could hear the bitterness in his own voice, but couldn't find it in himself to care. There were too many lies, too many secrets. "How long have you known about Hydra?"

Master Hill took a step toward him. "What are you trying to say, Rogers?"

Fari lifted a hand and she stepped back, but her gaze never left Steve's. Fari's one good eye studied Steve, searching for something. "Did you know that Alexander Pierce and I were initiates together? If you had told me then that he would one day turn dark and betray the Order, I would have laughed in your face."

Bucky's face filled Steve's mind, his once laughing blue eyes turned yellow and filled with hate. The darkness was closing in around them, and there was no way to fight it.

Natasha stepped forward, her back straight. "Hydra is going to kill everyone they see as a threat. We have to do something to stop them."

A sharp burst of incredulous laughter escaped Steve. "What can _we_ do?" He made a gesture encompassing the five of them. "In case you haven't noticed, there's only five of us… and one's not exactly fit to fight."

"Six." All eyes turned toward the door, and several lightsabers leapt to hands at the voice. Clint grinned even while he raised his hands placatingly. "Easy there, guys. I'm a friend."

Natasha took a step toward him, hesitated, then flung herself at him, hugging him tightly, her head buried in his shoulder. Clint's grin widened with surprise and delight as he hugged her back, his eyes flickering across the other Jedi who were all staring at him, a challenging glint in their light blue depths. "Hey," he murmured. "It's okay."

Natasha lifted her head and shoved the bounty hunter's shoulders with both hands, demanding, "What took you so long?"

His grin went lopsided and he raised his hands again, this time in mock surrender. "Sorry, Tasha. I had to make sure I wasn't followed. Didn't want to bring the bad guys here with me." He glanced at the other Jedi again, his gaze stopping on Steve. "Bet you thought I'd sold you out?"

Steve inclined his head slightly. "Everyone else we know is trying to kill us." The only people he knew he could trust were in this room—and he wasn't sure of all of them, at that.

Clint's gaze flicked back to Master Fari, his eyebrows raised. "Word is that you already died, Grand Master."

"Good." Master Fari's teeth flashed white against his dark skin. "We want word to get around on that. Make Hydra think we're weak."

"We _are _weak!" Steve's frustration burst out of him in a shout. The room went silent and all eyes were now on him. "Five, six, what's the difference? _We can't stop them_." Letting out his breath in a rush, he turned away. Jedi weren't supposed to be emotional, but he couldn't get a grip on his feelings in the chaotic mess in the Force here. He was too tired to try to sort out the oppressive cloud of emotions. Not caring that it would look like he was storming out, he left the room, seeking quiet.

* * *

The darkness outside—and inside—the observation dome felt like it crept closer with every breath Steve took. He sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to meditate. This had always been difficult for him, impossible before Master Abra'im had taken him as padawan. Jedi were taught to release their emotions to the Force in meditation, but the little Bimm had poopooed that idea, instead showing Steve how to examine his feelings and learn from them.

But now, his feelings slipped through his fingers like sand and swirled like a sandstorm inside his head, scrambled and messy. It was as if he were once again the skinny boy who struggled to perform the most basic of the things his teachers asked of him. "I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I have failed you."

_Have you already forgotten everything I taught you, Steve?_ The familiar music of Master Abra'im's voice whispered through the shadows.

"Master?" Steve's question was barely audible, his throat tight. There were rumours of Jedi masters returning as ghosts of a sort, but all the stories were from ages in the past. And yet, he sensed the unmistakably recognizable Force presence of his master filling the space with a light that did nothing to dispel the physical shadows but everything to dispel the ones in his soul.

_I sense much fear in you. And yet, you fear not for yourself, but for your friends. This is not a bad thing._ The compassion in the words brought tears to Steve's eyes.

"It's more than fear, Master." Steve closed his eyes, his hands loosening from fists to lie flat on his thighs. "I don't see any way out of this. It's the end of the Jedi."

_An end of one thing is the beginning of another. It may be that something greater is birthed out of this tragedy. You are not alone, Steve. Not all in Order are Hydra_.

"But… six against thousands?"

He sensed rather than heard a soft clucking of a tongue. _There still are Jedi in the Temple who will rise up against the darkness. They need only to see the light. You must show them the way_.

"Me?" Steve's voice broke and he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. "What can _I_ do? I'm a fugitive—wanted for crimes against the Force!"

_There is much you can do, Steve. Go to the Temple. Speak to them. Not all will listen, but many will_.

Steve let out a breath. He could do this. Even though Hydra had infected the Order like a cancer, there had to be some good Jedi remaining, and the Force would be with them. "I wish you were here, Master."

_I will always be with you, Steve. Never forget: through the Force, good becomes great, and bad becomes worse. I never expected you to be a perfect Jedi, but you are a great one, and I am very proud of you._


	6. No Fear, Only Peace

"Attention all Jedi: this is Steve Rogers. You've probably been told that I'm a traitor to the Republic, guilty of crimes against the Force. But you need to know the truth. A sect of dark Jedi called Hydra has infiltrated the Jedi Order. Alexander Pierce is their leader. I don't know how many there are, but I know they're in the Temple. They could be standing right next to you. They attacked Master Fari and it won't end there." Steve closed his eyes and bowed his head over the microphone, bracing his arms on the console before him. "I'm not asking you to trust me. Trust in the Force. Hydra has control of the clones and, if you aren't with them, they will try to kill you. I know I'm asking a lot, but remember: our loyalty is to the Force, not to the Jedi."

Switching off the comm, he straightened with a sigh. Behind him, Sam remarked, "Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?"

Surprised into a laugh, Steve turned around. "You ready to take down the Sith?"

Clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, Sam grinned. "I was born ready."

* * *

The sun had just set behind the tall buildings outside, casting long fingers of scarlet light through the full-length windows and across the Chancellor's office when Steve stepped through the door, Natasha and Sam close behind him. Supreme Chancellor Alexander Pierce raised his head, his hands flat on the mirrored surface of his desk, and smiled. "Jedi Knight Rogers. I must say, you're here sooner than I expected."

Steve's blade came to life in his hand as the other two activated theirs as well, coming up on either side of him. "You are under arrest, Chancellor, for crimes against humanity."

Pierce's eyes narrowed, the blue-green irises fading toward yellow. "Are you threatening me, Jedi?"

Natasha raised her saber on Steve's right. "I'm sorry, 'Lord Penetro'. Was that not clear?"

"This is treason." Pierce rose to his feet, his hands vanishing into the voluminous sleeves of his blood-red robe. There was an instant of warning in the Force, and Steve barely got his saber up in time to block Penetro's sickly reddish-orange blade. A second blue blade flashed in from Steve's left and the Sith flung out his free hand, sending Sam flying across the room. Natasha's saber slashed in, and Penetro ducked just in time to keep his head, slashing down toward Steve's legs as he did so.

Leaping into the air to avoid the hissing blade, Steve alighted on the desk and struck down at the Sith. Lightning burst from Penetro's left hand, and Steve just managed to catch it on his blade. The crackling fire flowed up and down the blue column, and he struggled to hold it steady as Penetro pushed forward, trying to eviscerate Steve with his own weapon.

Natasha and Sam came back in, sabers flying, and Penetro stepped back toward the windows, easily parrying their flicked his hand at Sam again, and the ex-Jedi was flung like a rag doll against the desk just as Steve leapt down, his saber once more under his control. There was a sickening crack as Sam's head struck the edge of the desk and he slumped to the floor. Yet, Steve could still sense his presence in the Force—he was unconscious but alive.

As Steve advanced on Penetro again, the Sith lord flung out a hand and pushed Natasha; ready for him, she held her ground, only her saber going wild. Her blade struck the window, shattering the glass into millions of fragments. Instinctively, Steve threw a Force shield up, reaching out to protect Natasha and Sam as well. The flying shards fell harmlessly around them, but Penetro fell to his knees, bleeding from hundreds of tiny cuts. Natasha snatched his lightsaber from his limp hand, switching it off. "You're under arrest, my 'Lord'." Her voice dripped with disdain.

Penetro's lips curved upward into a grisly smile. "I don't think so, my dear."

The second window burst inward. As Steve threw up another shield against yet another rain of glass, Darth Frigus landed on one knee among the sparkling shards, slowly raising his head as he activated the saber he held out to one side.

"Unless you want to die, I'd put your weapons down," Penetro remarked coolly.

Natasha's jaw clenched, her gaze flickering back and forth between Penetro and Frigus. "Not gonna happen."

The Sith lord's lips twisted into a smile as if he had expected nothing else, then he turned toward Frigus. "Kill them."

Stepping forward, Steve put himself between Frigus and his friends. Just like before, there was no recognition in those yellow eyes—nothing but hatred. And yet, there was something in the Force—beneath the choking cloud of darkness that surrounded him, Bucky's unmistakable presence lay nearly hidden, nearly consumed… but still there.

Raising his saber into a defensive position, Steve paced calmly toward his oldest, dearest friend. Bucky—Frigus—raised his blood red blade and came forward, meeting Steve halfway. A shower of red and blue sparks exploded around them as their sabers crashed together. Bucky had always been stronger than Steve, both physically and in the Force, and that had not changed. Steve's arms ached from holding the locked blades away from his face. And yet, he felt no fear, only peace.

Bucky raised his mechanical hand, pushing sharply with the Force; Steve stumbled but regained his balance quickly then backing away, leading him away from Natasha and Sam. "You know me," Steve said quietly as Bucky followed him, stalking him like a predator. "You've known me your whole life."

"No." Bucky's voice shook slightly, as if he wasn't altogether sure of the truth of his own words and Steve's hope flared ever brighter. "I don't."

Switching to the language they had both been most comfortable with before coming to the Temple, Steve replied, "Chunkee pee kasa James Buchanan Barnes. Mah pateessa."

"Schutta!" Bucky spoke without thinking, then his eyes widened as if he couldn't believe what had come out of his own mouth, and fury roared through his Force presence. "Shut up, Jedi! You're my enemy! Not my friend!" He slammed his hand forward, knocking Steve back with a burst of Force energy that sent him lurching, saber slipping from his grip.

A sense of emptiness behind him warned Steve just in time to fall to his hands and knees on the window ledge, catching himself at the edge. He made a grab for his extinguished lightsaber, but missed, and it fell spinning toward the street twenty stories below. He raised his eyes back to Bucky, who had stopped and was staring at Steve as if unsure what he was supposed to do now. The red lightsaber hung forgotten at his side. Steve spread his hands before him, palm up, pouring every drop of love he had within him into the Force until he wanted to squint against the brilliance of it. "Uma ji muna," he whispered.

Bucky's golden eyes widened. "Steve?" he said, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

"I said _kill him!_" Pierce shouted, his voice saturated with power, and Steve turned his head in time to see the Sith Master's hand rise, palm toward him. The Force slammed into Steve like a giant fist, and he fell backwards into the open air.

He met Bucky's eyes as he fell. The clear blue he remembered being so often bright with humour and joy, now suffused with shock and horror. Then Bucky dove off the edge after him.

* * *

_Huttese translations:_

_Chunkee pee kasa James Buchanan Barnes. Mah pateessa. - Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. My friend._

_Schutta - Shut it_

_Uma ji muna - I love you_


End file.
